Begun by Blood
by euphemismsgalore
Summary: WIP This fiction as you may have noticed is inspired by Barbossa's bloodritual line.Elizabeth is having strange dreams suspecting Will of odd behaviour. Meanwhile, back on the Black Pearl, something strange has happened...full summary inside.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:** This started as a random drabble and formed into an actual story. This is a repost of the prologue and the first chapter since the combining / readjusting of chapters have caused a bit of confusion. I am unwillingly parting with my reviews in doing so. Thanks Williz, Melleh, Araminta Ditch, Smithy, and Paradigminfini for your kind words. Another reason to repost the story is that it is not showing up for me on the main site, which is odd. Just know this is a work in progress and I will be perpetually coming back to correct wording/phrases in it. I always do. This is a long story so sit tight and review. Encouragement always prompts one to write.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Apparently I do not own the very dashing blacksmith, the extremely gorgeous Ms. Swann or one handsome Sparrow. I mean, one handsome CAPTAIN Sparrow. What gives?

**Genre:** Mystry/Supernatural/Mythology

**Pairing:** Will/Elizabeth (but of course), Jack/Pearl

**Rated:**Mature Content

**Synopsis:** This fiction as you may have noticed is inspired by Barbossa's blood-ritual line in the movie. Elizabeth is having strange dreams suspecting Will of odd behaviour. Will is wary of her himself. Meanwhile, back on the Black Pearl, something strange has happened and it is up to Jack Sparrow to warn his friends in Port Royal before its too late. We hear so much of Bootstrap Bill Turner, Will's Father, but what of Elizabeth's mother? Mary Swann? And what is Elizabeth's father hiding from her? What happened to the two principle characters in a true legendary romance in early 16th century India? How does it relate to our three main protagonists? Let the mystery unravel...

**Begun by Blood **

**by **_**Ms Elizabeth Turner for you**_

**Prologue**

_"You best start believing in ghost stories Ms. Turner, you are in one!"_

_The man stepped out of the concealing shadows, the taunting moonlight creeping up his hand, transforming the flesh into rotten corpse instantly. Her eyes grew wide with realization, fright melting into her delicate features. With every step she took backwards he took another to close the distance. She knew there was no escape. The skeletel abbaration reaching out for her, closing the distance..._

A lithe figure jolted up in her bed, breathlessly, urgently filling her demanding lungs with air. Sweat trickled down her forehead albeit the cool Caribbean breeze that abundantly filled the room. The crackling fireplace faintly breaking the silence or the darkness in the room, casting shadows that danced and swayed without accord. The eerie feel of it not lost on her. The knowing moonlight fighting to escape the sheer curtains that hung in the lavish bedroom. Lavish indeed. After all she was the governer's daughter. She eyed the shimmering ivory dress hung in all its enchantment near her dresser. A half smile accosting any feelings of fear or resentment that had crossed her thanks to the realness of the cursed nightmare. She chalked it up to pre-wedding jitters and contentedly sunk back in the softness of her bed.

**o**

"Ba adab ba mulahizah hooshiyar," (be poised, be respectful, be attentive) the court soldier announced the princes' arrival as the carriers of his palki set him down, as close to the gem-adorned seat as they possibly could, barring his feet a choice to touch the gound. Prince Salim gathered his delicate silken gown to settle in his gem-adorned thrown. Two chamber maids quickly took their place behind him, fanning his form with large peacock-feathered fans.

"Takhliya," (Dissmissed) he spoke anxiously, everyone including the servants and attending maids dismissed themselves with a curtsy.

"What have you brought me today Sir Henry?"inquired prince Salim in accented english.

"Jahaan panah," (My lord) A man distinguishingly clad in breeches and plain white shirt with a khaki vest bowed before him in a greeting before coming forth with a small wooden box, "I have brought you something that might be of great interest to you." He opened the box to bring into view a perfectly round black stone. It was about three inches in diameter and sported a smooth surface. Brilliant bouts of light emanated from the small stone as the prince touched the ball curiously.

**o**

The cool sea-scented breeze of the ocean came twirling through the window. Her humming filled the quaint kitchen warmly as she cheerily washed dishes in the sink. A task she's never bothered to perform in presence of countless maids before she was married, yet, she was happy. Having realized her dream of being Will's wife, never been happier in fact. Sure, it wasn't as magical as she'd hoped it would be. Sure, the gentry of Port Royale had still admonished the blacksmith for marrying her. Sure, her father had given her hand in Will's unwillingly knowing the hardships that awaited his daughter in being the blacksmith's wife. But never did any of the trivialities and to Elizabeth they were... trivial, ever deter her from having him. Only after one month of being married to Will she'd learned to not view life with rose tinted glasses so to speak. Like a good wife, she practically compromised a lot of 'necessities' like maids and people waiting on her, in respect of her husband's pride who at the moment couldn't afford as such. Her spirit, however remained un-faltered. Happiness comes with a cost and she would pay any price to be with her true love. She was not the only one making sacrifices, he too had given up on a lot to be with her. Not the least of which was his love for the sea.

She felt a sudden presence in the vacant kitchen. A tingling sensation crept up her spine, as her humming dissipated into a silent distress. She scanned the shore from her large kitchen window not a soul in sight. The sun had disappeared in the horizon for sometime now. The moon obscured by the shadows of the earth, eclipsing the celestial body completely. The stark darkness outside sent her in another bout of worry. Will wasn't due for another hour or so, being as he was the most sought after blacksmith in the whole of Caribbean and sole owner of the shop now after Mr. Brown's passing. She slowly wiped the plate dry with a rag, distracting herself of the uneasy feeling. She was not one to rely on anyone for protection, to the contrary, she's proved her feisty streak more than once in her adventure a couple of years back but at that moment she wanted nothing but to be hidden in Will's strong protective arms. Something in her wanted to be rid an uncertain feeling that was slowly subsiding.

"You can't escape me Mrs. Turner," came a whisper.

Startled by the unfamiliarity of the voice she jumped, breaking a plate in her hands.

"Blimey," Will cursed, "calm down dear. Its just me." She turned to find her husband standing behind her. He clasped her cheek lovingly rubbing her temple, "Are you alright love"

"Yes," she withdrew a sharp breath uncertainly falling in his willing embrace, " yes I am."

"I thought I scared you," he said, staring into her eyes finding an uncharacteristic vulnerability that he noticed he didn't much like. He kissed her passionately replacing her fears with desire. Shortly withdrawing to rely an apologetic look, "I am sorry for leaving you alone for most of the days especially on nights like these." He motioning at the dark skies. Not even the stars breaking its dark concentrations.  
Sensing his guilt, she retorted cheekily, "Its alright. I have ways of making you pay." Noting the mischievous look she gave he matched her attempts at hiding an unbidden smile and collecting her in his arms huskily queried, "Whatever would I have to do to make it up to you, my lady."

She answered by claiming his lips, her fingers weaved in his hair as he was granted access to the crevice of her mouth. He rocked her body gently sliding his hand to the small of her back while the other kept behind her neck. Their tongues wrestled for dominance as he surreptitiously took a few steps backwards to reach the table that the couple used for having casual dinners. They broke apart breathlessly, eager to taste each other again. Elizabeth's hands flew to his buttons as his countered her laces, the next moment Will had knocked off the idle sewing items strewn about the table. Ignoring a sharp pain in his index finger that had been poked by one of the needles he placed his wife on the table showering her with soft kisses on her bronzed body, worshiping each and every curve.

A cool draft came from the window blowing out the only candle that lit the kitchen. Elizabeth shivered, although she wasn't sure if it was solely from anticipation of her husbands caressing hands.

"Will," she moaned. Her fingers traced the muscular arms, gripping his back and jerking him closer to her. He took it as a sign and entered her with stroke that sent jolts of passion. He sucked the crook of her neck eagerly, marking her with his love. There was something different about him tonight. Will was usually a gentle lover Elizabeth noted in a moment of lucidity but gave into the sensations sent to her body by his constant thrusts, each one increasing in virility and power.

**oOo **

The foreign language used is Hindi/Urdu. All terms specified were used in older times and are thus obsolete so I thought I'd give you a background on some of the mentioned.

**Palki** - A chair or sofa attached on a wooden platform with poles extending at the back and front was carried by four coolies/servants. It was a means to commute for people of high birth in older times. It is said that some prince/esses had not known the feeling of bare ground on their feet.  
**Takhliya** – Dismiss (only used by kings and nobles alike to end conversations)


	2. I: Leda and the Swann

**Chapter I : Leda and the Swann**

_**Being so caught up,  
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,  
Did she put on his knowledge with his power  
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?**_

The windows framed the moon-tinted light as it sprayed over any object accosting its path. Dimensions of the small room better exposed by the lantern on the nightstand lighting its surrounding reluctantly. Will Turner folded the pillow under his head, increasing its incline to allow him a better view of the crimson luminance adorned by the woman that lay next to him in a tangle of sheets. The events of only moments before twitched his lips in a smile. He loved her so much. All of her. Her independence, her fiery determination, her passion, the challenge she held; he vouched for it all, lest one trait. Her vulnerability. He never liked seeing her as a vulnerable weakling. That was not his Elizabeth at all and he didn't like the look of fearful helplessness she had submitted to earlier this night. A look that he had hoped they buried in _Isle de Meurta_ with the ghosts of undead. He still remembered when he saw the utter fright apparent from the small opening of the cave, she stood proudly but visibly shaken. Trying not to let on the horror and uncertainty she felt bravely, her eyes giving it away mercilessly. He traced loose golden brown strand painting a swirl on the ghost white sheets while he made a mental note of asking her the cause of her anguish first opportune moment he gets, when she stirred.

"Will?" she called sleepily, "can't sleep?" Winking an eye open to gouge time from the lunar streaks, she placed her full gaze to him.

"No. Thought I had better things to do," he grinned mischievously at his wife.

"Mister Turner," she retorted chidingly, registering the smirk she know all too well. The smirk that meant her husband wasn't quite done with her yet, "may I remind you the navy's order that you've taken up will not be filling itself, and all those shei-," her taunts were caught in the grasp of his lips. He broke the kiss reading her face, "tell me my love," he started, thinking this to be as good a time as ever, "why did you seem so troubled earlier. Is something bothering you?"

She breathed a sigh caressing his cheek thoughtfully, "it was-no matter." At that he frowned but didn't further his inquisition. Elizabeth could tell he was put off by it but she hadn't even comprehended the source of distress herself to confide its pertinence with him. "Good night darling," he cradled her face after they broke the kiss for a moment. His eyes conveying readiness whenever she found hers to share. He drifted back in the cuddle of the bed closing his eyes in resignation.

"Will," she whispered, pausing, unsure of how to further, "the dreams. They are back."

**o**

"Captain!" Anamaria shouted from the helm of the ship, "would ye care to tell me why we be setting course to Port Royal of all the blighting places?" He swaggered a walk contemplatively towards her partly to spare the rest of his crew from the accusatory high pitched voice. "'cause we must." He flashed his golden teeth, "and its Jack to ye."

Anamaria knew the discount always came with a harmless but perverse smile. She frowned, her concern overtook the itch in her hand and she choose to ignore his efforts for now. They were to dock Tortuga for their occasional rest stops. All the crew looked forward to the privileged few nights of rum, strumpets, and entertainment. Not to mention the quick raid made by another pirate ship not two hours back had left the Pearl needing a few repairs that can be resourcefully made in Tortuga. "They got what they wanted Cap'n. Not like they took anythin' of value," then curiously eyed her captain who devoid of her presence stood twisting his mustache searching for something in a distant, "what did they 'ave ye be writtin' on tha' parchment anyway?"

"Tha's the thing love. They didn' take anythin' of value." With a cryptic reply he left her side, as usual leaving his company in yearning desire.

**o**

"What do you mean the dreams are back?" Will turned to face her. Glad that she finally wanted to share her thoughts, without fully understanding what she meant.

"The dreams. Remember before I was kidnapped by that pirate. I had dreams of when I've seen the Black Pearl," registering his still arched brows, "I always get this bad feeling before something horrid is to happen."

"I know darling but you said you saw me. The dream was of the day you rescued me. I should hope that was a good dream," he joked to lighten the mood. Surprised at the rock of the woman he knew to be his wife into an incredulous worry casted by a mere dream. She snuggled into his chest cursing herself in silent consternation of revealing her pre-mature and most probably meaningless peril. "I told you it was nothing."

Will combed her tresses relaxed but not fully satisfied with the answer, "If it is nothing then why do you let it bother you so?" He felt her posture stiffen under his embrace for a moment before she melted back in his form, "I don't know. It just always happens. Father says my mother was the same way. She had good instincts. You know like how some animals can smell danger." The thought was outlandish for a practical person like him, he was no _Gibbs_ to be certain and he knew neither was she. "Darling, since when did you started believing in these superstitions? Hmm..." he cupped her cheek and gazed into her now angry eyes.

"I don't know when I started believing in _instincts," _she corrected emphasizing, "perhaps it was since I bumped into undead pirates whom wanted to kill us for some cursed Aztec treasure." She gritted, flopping the sheets over herself as she turned her back to him. Her anger was more to the awareness of how unconvincing the idea was of _Barbossa_ being an imminent threat or for that matter returning even to herself. It was a mistake to indulge in this conversation and share the peril when she didn't even understand the cause. She could tell though that something wasn't right. She could always tell, oddly.

Yes any dream was worthwhile when he was in it she thought back to the day they had rescued Will. She never told him how fearful she felt for him when she had awoken from the dream or how she had fished the medallion out from the drawer in anticipation. She hardly ever wore that medallion for security of the treasured possession in unspoken acceptance of her love. That day however, she felt it would be kept safer, close to her heart. The protectiveness of the vow that was emblem of the golden piece. She had clutched it even as she had denied Will's potential as her suitor to Estella and watched the rapid breeze defeat the wavering light as she had. Even then she had wondered of Will. Of his past. Of his connection with the medallion.

She was brought back from her contemplations by the rustling of the sheets. "Don't go to bed angry," he kissed her cheek, "or you shall never be rid of the hauntings that concern me." She grinned without facing him. Forever amazed at the effect he had on her reknowned temper. "Goodnight my pirate." She said lightly. As if given consent, an arm snaked around her protectively, in a habit. She sighed and gave in to the clutches of sleep.

**o**

Another pebble delved into the water pooling a resonance of circles far bigger than its plight. The lady clad in a decorative gown which spoke highly of her social status sat idly by the pond under the unaccomplished shade of an autumn ridden tree. Clasping another small pebble betwixt the puzzle of red, orange, and yellow she threw it absentmindedly, when she heard the dreadful footsteps.

"My dear, why is a lady of propriety such as yourself making acquaintance with dirt?" came the indifferent voice of Weatherby Swann.

"Sooner or later we all have to make acquaintance with dirt, Mr. Swann." Mary Swann spoke morosely. Dusting off her soiled dress she had stalked off from the man she didn't love, yet he persisted in her life; the man who was her husband, unbidden to her wishes; the man whom she was custom to bed, resulting in the child that grew inside of her.

**oOo**

**Author's Note:** I feel that names are very important to a story. So I've very carefully picked them and made sure they were popular in the era I attribute them to. I know right now there is too much going on and there are too many questions but I promise if you stick around they will be answered. Hopefully now I've at least put the question concerning the Willabeth's vigorous sex session to rest. (and its semblance to a soap. p.s. I wouldn't be caught dead watching a soap! Savvy:P). Seriously, I love my reviewers so much. Your encouragement/constructive criticism is why I write at all.

- Added the name of Mary Swann's husband. Thanks for making a note of it williz.

**Leda and the Swan:** Yes, I added an extra "**n**" for effect. Just be glad I didn't name Mrs. Swann _Leda_! Not very subtle at all, so much for "toning down the soapy effects." Okay I admit I considered it until I found out it wasn't a probable name for a maiden. For those of you not aware of the mythical reference the title, as well the opening few verses of the poem convey I thought I'd add this synopsis. _William Butler Yeats's daring sonnet describing the details of a story from Greek mythology—the rape of Leda by the god Zeus in the form of a swan—was written at the height of the poet's career, the same year he received the Nobel Prize for literature. "Leda and the Swan" is a violent, sexually explicit poem that has all of the lyricism and complexity of Yeats's later work, with its plain diction, rhythmic vigor, and allusions to mystical ideas about the universe, the relationship of human and divine, and the cycles of history. It can be seen as a poem about the way a single event is to be understood as part of a larger scheme; the result of the god's assault on Leda is the birth of Helen of Troy, the subsequent destruction of early Greek civilization, and the beginning of the modern era. _

The four lines that I've quoted in the beginning of the chapter are the **_post-incident (rape)_** allusions. I hope the end of the chapter can help you hazard a guess as to why I picked them.

Interesting fact: Mary and Elizabeth are both Hebrew names. Don't worry I am not religious and there BE no religious overtones.


End file.
